


enliven

by justsleepwalkin



Series: Coldwaveweek2016 [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Lewis is a dick, M/M, Rated For Violence, Zoom-Typical Violence, loose sense of time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsleepwalkin/pseuds/justsleepwalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panic nearly slams Len to the floor. He keeps his expression impassive, closing the filing cabinet and straightening to face his father. The panic doesn't stop churning. How his father can be here, and if Lewis is here, what happened with Mick? </p><p>Coldwaveweek2016: Day 7: Parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	enliven

**Author's Note:**

> This goes more in-depth of the _long cons_ piece from Day 3. You do not have to read it. _long cons_ could slot into this piece, basically.

“Your 9:30 has canceled, sir,” his secretary says over the phone.

“Thank you.” Which is a relief. The CCPD's CSI knows how to talk up a storm, usually about things that aren't recent meta cases, which means Len doesn't care. 

He hangs up the phone and gets up, pulling open a drawer of a filing cabinet and sorting through manila folders. His office door opens and he swears under his breath, wondering who it is _this_ time, Mick or Lisa. 

“Mayor, son?” Lewis Snart sneers, the door closing behind him. “Must be pretty easy to get the job when everyone else in the city is afraid to run.”

Panic nearly slams Len to the floor. He keeps his expression impassive, closing the filing cabinet and straightening to face his father. The panic doesn't stop churning. How his father can be here, and if Lewis is here, what happened with Mick? 

“Please, _Dad_ , I'll milk this city for all it's worth.”

“Which is _nothing_. I'm disappointed in you. I taught you better than this.”

“That's nice. Where's my bodyguard?” Because he has to know. Mick wouldn't have let Lewis anywhere _near_ Len. 

Lewis steps closer, eyes steel. “You mean the muscle you're sleeping with?” 

“Jealous that you don't have anyone to warm your bed, Dad?” Len spits, coiled tight. 

“ I wouldn't dirty my sheets with someone like that.”

Len almost punches him. The _need_ buzzes through his skin, the anger nearly tangible. Instead, he asks, very lowly, “ _Where_ is he?”

“Don't trouble yourself, he's alive. Knocked out in a closet. I just wanted to talk with you, without any disturbance.”

Some of his tension eases out of him. Lewis wouldn't lie; if Lewis killed or had done serious harm to Mick, he would have rubbed it in Len's face.

“You need to smarten up, Leonard. This little _mayoral_ run game of yours is suicide.”

“Oh, and you care, now? Or do you just miss being able to use me to save your ass on jobs?”

Lewis moves forward to strike, lacking Len's restraint. Len flinches backward and sidesteps him, then continues to put space between them. 

“That's my only warning, Leonard.”

“Get out of my office,” Len growls. 

Lewis shakes his head and leaves.

Len counts down from one hundred in his head and hopes his father's gone by the time he bolts out of his office, pausing by his secretary's office to say: “If you ever see that man again here, you call Lisa, do you understand?” He knows what he must look like, leaving her confused, not waiting for an answer to search every closet for Mick. 

He finds him slumped over a yellow mop bucket, crammed in at uncomfortable angles. Len doesn't see blood, but there's still a nasty bruise spidering on his head. He kneels down, reaching out, hands lightly smacking at Mick's face. “Mick. _Mick_. Come on, wake up.” He thumbs Mick's pulse point at his neck, pleased at what he finds. Keeps his hand there and reaches into a pocket for his phone and speed-dials. In three rings, his sister picks up. “Lisa. Are you safe? Don't be alone for the next day. Surround yourself with friends, strangers, I don't care. Dad was here.”

“Lenny, are _you_ okay?”

“Yes?” He reels in the uncertainty, mentally scolding himself. “Yes. I'm fine. He knocked Mick out though.” He cradles his hand behind Mick's head, watching his eyelids start to move. “Mick's starting to come to. Just... Just stay safe. Don't come here. He'd expect that, I'm sure.” Len _wants_ to see his sister. It's killing him to know that Lewis is sniffing around, doing what? Warning Len? Of _what_? Len knows what he's doing, and him and Mick can protect themselves. “I gotta go, Lis.”

He hangs up when Mick looks at him.

“Shit, Len. Lewis—”

“I know. He's gone, for now. Let's get you something for your head.”

“I'm sorry, I tried—”

Len hushes him, helping him up. “It's fine. I'm glad you're okay.”

“What was he here for?”

“I don't know.”

* * *

He does the paperwork and sends it out to the proper people and the media, and it disgusts him just a bit that he has to even _establish_ a curfew. But he knows from experience what the “night scene” used to look like, and they're gone past that. Past the time of mundane criminals and rogues.

No, the night is the time for a monster in black and all his pawns and their crazed “attempts” at enforcing his will. 

Better to keep people inside during those late hours. If they're not going to use common sense, Len just has to make these things mandatory.

* * *

Len comes out of the bathroom after a shower, dressed in sweats and a towel around his neck. He can hear his sister and Mick quietly arguing in the living room.

“He _has_ to know, Mick!”

“ _No_. It doesn't help anyone.”

“What are you two going on about?” he asks when he enters. They stare at him with matching expressions of worry. He straightens. “ _What_?”

“ _Mick_ ,” Lisa hisses.

“No.”

“Mick!”

“ _No_.”

“Okay. Now I'm getting pissed,” Len says.

“You'll be more pissed if she talks,” Mick answers.

Lisa rounds on him. “This will be used against Lenny, you _know that_ , Mick. You rather he face that, unaware?!”

Mick pulls away, distancing himself from both of them. 

“Someone start talking,” Len demands. 

“Our... our father's been seen working with Zoom's metas.”

“... _What_ did you just say?”

“He's working with Zoom, Lenny,” she whispers. 

“Lisa,” Mick implores, while keeping his eyes locked onto Len as a storm overtakes him, “why don't you head home?” 

She hesitates, reaching a hand up towards her brother, then pulls away and nods. “...Yeah. Look after him, alright, Mick?”

“Always.”

He's barely seen her out when he hears something shatter. He locks up the front door and rushes to the living room where Len's holding the remains of a lamp. 

“Lenny—”

Len turns wild eyes to Mick. “You were going to keep this from me,” he says, dangerously quiet.

“Yes. Because I knew this would be how you'd react.”

Len drops the lamp and crosses the room too quick, hands balled in angry fists, lashing out. “You had no right!” Len yells.

One fist makes contact with Mick's chin; Mick catches the second, wrapping warm fingers tightly around Len's. “If I could have been one-hundred percent sure that Zoom wouldn't find a way to use Lewis against you, I would have gone to my grave with that truth.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Len seethes, making to swing again. 

Mick moves out of the way, pushing up against Len's body, manhandling him around so that Len's back meets with Mick's chest. He wraps his arms around Len, hand on his wrists, and lets Len violently tremble against him. The closest he'll come to crying.

“I've got you.”

“The bastard... How could he... is this why... why he said...”

“Said what?”

Len snuffs out his own words, shaking his head, done talking. Mick sighs, looks at the remnants of the lamp broken on the floor by the wall. It could be worse. Len could have shattered his own bones, instead. 

“Come on, Lenny, let's go to bed.”

* * *

Len admits that his “long con” plan of becoming mayor and thieving from every aspect of the city became “help keep the city alive.” Because every day it was falling apart and it kept piling onto his desk and everyone kept looking to _him_ to make it better, looking to _him_ to give them hope, like they didn't have to run and hide under the terror of Zoom.

It got worse after Flash was presumed dead. 

Because that's _really_ what everyone needed to hear.

* * *

Mick's busy keeping the media away from Len so that he can avoid questions about the Flash. He released one statement about the supposed tragedy, and that he hoped if the Flash was still alive somewhere, that he was recovering. 

That's all he could stomach.

Len loses track of Mick in the sea of media and that's all on him, not Mick. His plan had been to get far enough away and close to one of their favorite cafes, then meet up with Mick again. Instead, Len meets up with Lewis, and that sours any excitement for coffee and scones. 

“Look at you, the _dutiful_ henchman, coming 'round,” he says to his father. He shoves his hands in his pockets. There's a knife stashed away in one. He'll use it if he has to. “Just you, no meta shadow?” He makes an exaggerated point of looking around. 

“This is very sad, Leonard,” Lewis says, his voice pitying. 

“Why are you here, Dad? Give me a warning? Oh _wait_ , you tried that already. Was that before or after you went running to Zoom like a coward?” He chuckles, all bitterness. “I mean, you said you were disappointed in me, but _wow_ , Dad, I never thought I could be _more_ disgusted with you. Guess you proved me wrong.”

“I know how to make the best of a situation, son. A lesson I failed to pass down to you, as it seems. Zoom is a commander, a forceful presence that no one can best, not even the Flash.”

Len barks out a laugh, nodding in his father's general direction. “What _did_ Zoom think it would accomplish, sending you, to me? How could _you_ possibly be useful against _me_? Don't think he really did his research.”

Lewis _smiles_. “Don't you know how easy it is to topple a government? The right-placed words, the secrets.” 

“What are you going to tell the city that they don't already know?” Len can't keep the laughter back, even as he tries. He jerks a hand down the direction he came from. “The media's right that way with Mick! Go ahead, say I'm a criminal. They don't care. They know I was.” He walks towards his father. “Or do you want to condemn _yourself_? Say I'm _damaged goods_ , the product of a piss-poor parentage? I suppose you could attack Lisa to get to me, as you always have. Ruin her reputation. But you know something, Dad?” He smiles right back at his father, utterly frigid. “You _broke us_ so much that you can't do anything that we won't just roll with. And the public? Doesn't matter. You're right: no one wants this job. So I _could_ be a blatantly corrupt mayor, and it wouldn't matter. They'd keep me.”

He watches recognition twitch across Lewis' expression, and Len basks in satisfaction. 

“You wanna know the difference between us?” Len murmurs. “I'm my own person. The city falls under _me_. It's _mine_. And you?” His lips twist in an angry smile. The fury growing in his father is too much to delight from. For once, it's Len doing the injury, striking into the depths of Lewis' pride, _teaching a lesson_. “You have nothing. You're a pawn. Why don't you run back to your _master_.” 

“You _disrespectful_ —after everything I've done for you, boy, _everything_ I've taught you—” Lewis is red in the face. “I'll kill you. I'll—”

Len's laughter finds him again, unable to escape it. “I doubt you're under orders to do that. I'm sure he wants to have the honor, himself. You wouldn't want to disobey Zoom, hm? Heard that has consequences.” 

Len can see the moment when Lewis realizes that his son is _right_. He wishes Mick was here to see this, savor it with Len. When Lewis turns and stalks across the street, Len hums, pleased that his coffee and scone _will taste amazing_. 

He leans against a streetlamp and waits for Mick to catch up.

* * *

There's an email marked as IMPORTANT in Len's inbox, no subject, and an attachment. His office usually has exceptional email security, so he clicks it without much thought, and opens the attachment. 

It's a video. 

Before he can wonder if he's just screwed up their computers, there's blue lightning and his father's head crowded into the camera, Zoom's claw of a hand stretched over the top, holding him. 

“If he's so useless, then it looks like neither of us need him around anymore, correct?” Zoom asks the camera, voice a dark purr. 

Lewis begins convulsing and screaming, jolting his head side to side in an effort to try and break free from Zoom's hold, but failing. Len understands where the pain is coming from when splayed, vibrating fingers, come through Lewis' stomach. His hand stops vibrating and twists in Lewis' gut, slowly, excruciatingly pulling back out. Lewis eyes roll back into his head and Zoom drops the body. 

“That takes care of our problem. Your welcome, Mayor Snart.”

The video ends with a once-over of Lewis Snart's twitching body. 

Len stares blankly at his computer screen for a good long while.

* * *

Len leaves Lisa a voicemail. 

Short.

To the point.

_“Dad's dead. Zoom killed him.”_

She doesn't call back and he doesn't follow up to ask her how she feels about it because it isn't a conversation either of them want. 

He doesn't tell anyone about the video, not even Mick.

* * *

He may hate his father, but Len realizes much later that no one deserves to die like that, at the hands of Zoom. He excuses himself from a meeting, passing by Mick without looking at him, and vomits in the tiny stall of the private bathroom down the hall, hating himself for feeling anything other than anger towards his father.

He goes back to the meeting, but he doesn't say anything, even when he's asked for his opinion.

* * *

He shows Mick the video, recognizing his distance from his partner isn't fair and that he deserves to know why. Mick says nothing, but he shuts the laptop and puts his arms around Len.

* * *

Somewhere along the way, Zoom gets worse. They didn't think it was possible.

Len extends the curfew, as though it really does anything at all. He's very good at tricking himself.

He stares down at the flier for STAR Laboratories and BRING ME WELLS scratched into it. 

“One,” Len drawls, his head bowed, fingers laced together behind his neck, “I thought Wells was gone; two, why does Zoom want him?”

“It isn't just the fliers,” Mick rumbles. He massages his hands across Len's shoulders, searching out the knots that he knows for a fact are there.

“Zoom's leaving the same messages in _fire_ ,” Lisa adds. “Cut through buildings, streets. Four months... Why now? Zoom knows something we don't about Wells. He has to.”

They don't find out what Zoom knows; they just find out that he's _pissed_.

Then, shit hits the proverbial fan—this song and dance, push and pull that him and Zoom have been doing—coming to an end when Zoom has a reporter by the neck and is demanding to her terrified cameraman: “Your mayor _will_ surrender himself to me or I _will kill_ every single person of his precious city.”

Len wonders what changed. Hartley rambles something about _closed breaches_ in passing, but that isn't very helpful, Len doesn't understand. He never understands when Hartley talks about the sky opening. Still, they knew this day had been coming, and like hell Len's about to show his arch-enemy up for the world's worst lunch date.

* * *

“Lenny, please! Reconsider! If we're all there with you—”

“Then we all die together,” Len argues. “There is _nothing_ that will stop Zoom from killing me. No amount of people I bring, meta or otherwise. If you guys want to do anything useful, it's helping the people of this city by squaring off against Zoom's metas. Mardon and the others stand a chance for doing that much.”

“This city needs you,” Lisa whispers.

“Evidently what this city needs me for now is to die.” He smiles, weak and tired. “Mick'll be with me. He's the only one I can't stop. The rest of you, though? You gotta hold the city together as long as you can. Please, Lisa.”

Her eyes are wet. “You're the worst big brother, Lenny.”

His smile's stronger, this time. “I know.”

* * *

They sit side by side in the parked car, Len in the passenger's seat. Aside from the crazies and anarchists, they're probably the only ones out past curfew. The media stopped criticizing him about it last week, before Zoom asked for the city's mayor to sacrifice himself. 

He doubts the curfew will do much good after he's gone.

He doubts his sacrifice will even do much good. Zoom will probably still kill everyone; he'll just do it slower, or as slow as a speedster can go.

“Wish I could tell you I had a trump card in my pocket, Mick,” Len sighs, eases his head back. “Still glad you stuck by me?” He tries to grin, but it slides right off his face.

Mick unbuckles his seat belt and finally takes the keys out of the ignition. “Sounds like I would've been dead one way or another,” he answers. “'least this way, we'll go out together.”

“How romantic,” Len quips, sarcasm dripping, but then Mick's leaning over in his space and Len's staring back in surprise, gone just as fast when Mick's lips find his, tongue kneading into skin. “ _Fuck_ ,” Len moans. He reaches out and grips Mick's arm, trying to pull him closer even though the damn armrest is in the way. 

“Gotta give you something to go out with,” Mick tells him. “ _Happy_ memories, y'know?” He laughs, dragging his lips down Len's neck, tugging the collar of his shirt out of the way to lick at skin. “Didn't have time for much more, sorry, boss.” 

Len's hands pull around to Mick's back, head dipping down. “I should've made time. I wasn't—”

“ _Shh_ , Lenny,” Mick looks up and kisses him again. He straightens the lapels of Len's jacket, strokes out any wrinkles. “Central's home and we gotta protect it. I don't fault you for that.”

“ _Mick_ —”

Mick grins, eyes alight, a different kind of flame in them than the fire he played with, years and years ago. “You use that mouth of yours against Zoom, got it? Don't be cowed by a monster. Go out with a bite, y'hear?”

Len fucking hates that Zoom's taken so much from them. He wants to say more. Speak of things like love and memories and _trust_. He can't, though. He knows what time it is without looking at a clock. There's one thing him and Zoom have in common: they're always on time. 

“Yeah,” Len croaks out in reply, voice heavy with everything he can't say. 

Mick smiles. Pulls away.

 _Fuck_ , is all Len thinks.

* * *

The street's empty, their car a block away. The city doesn't buzz with life, not anymore. Death clings to streetlamps and windows of shops, and this very street. 

“I liked your classy video of you executing my father,” Len drawls, pacing down the center of the asphalt, Mick at his side. He keeps his eyes moving, alert, watching for any flicker of blue lightning. “Very _real_ home-footage. No overuse of special effects like you find in movies these days.” He turns in a circle. They're alone, but Len knows Zoom is out there, somewhere, listening. 

It gives him zero confidence, but he was taught to never show weakness. Those remnant, ghostly memories of his father will always remain with him. 

“A criminal to a mayor,” comes Zoom's lull of a voice, “but the thief still runs true with you; I would have thought you would have run, Mayor Snart, instead of give yourself to me.”

Len and Mick look up where Zoom's voice echoes down, and there's the crawl of static, wrapping over a fire escape, and then Zoom's there, a vulture of the night. 

Ironic, here's Len mocking his father posthumous, and yet it's those snide memories of thrashing against his father that keeps Len's tongue moving. He'd never back down from Lewis Snart; he can do the same with Zoom, no matter how frightened he is.

“Never been much for running,” he tells the darkness. “That was always Flash's gig, not mine.”

“ _Yes_ , the Flash...”

“You enjoy killing him, too?”

“Oh, his story is much _better_ than that.”

“Really?” That's actually interesting. “I'd love to hear it. We could go out for dinner, ice cream, a movie. Mick can drive. I can get discounts, what with being the mayor and all.” Len's tone turns to a sneer, “Though I bet you could get some too, what with being the speedster that plagues us all.”

“And _you_ plague _me_ , Mayor Snart. I've tried to work around you after a point... You had a use.” _Crack_ of electricity and in one second Zoom is gone from the fire escape and then directly in front of them. “But you're just too much of a gnat. _Insignificant_ , yet still getting in my way.”

“I do like being a pest,” Len says with fake cheer. “Isn't that right, Mick?”

“Oh, yes, very much so.”

“See?”

Len doesn't even see Zoom move, but Mick's dragging Len backwards, moving in front of him, and taking the lightning-blow to his arm. 

“And we were having such a nice chat!” Len yells over the sound of Mick's arm breaking. It drives the point home so much more: they're going to die. Len led them here to be slaughtered and Mick, still trying to be the ever-faithful bodyguard, takes the first brunt of it. 

Lightning scampers through the air, and Len loses track of them, hearing Mick's distant shout of agony further down the street. Len runs for the noise, knowing he can't do a damn thing, but not willing to leave Mick by himself. 

“Mick!” 

Mick isn't moving. A flickering streetlamp reflects over wet spots on Mick that Len's sure is blood. He makes it to Mick in the same time that Zoom's demonic shape circles back around, grabbing both him and Mick and in half a second, they're on a rooftop. Len collapses down hard, disoriented and ill from the sudden change. He finds Mick with a hand.

Zoom walks away from them, arms spread wide. “This city crumbles, nothing left to keep it afloat. Anarchy. Chaos. It isn't everything that I've wanted, but until I find a way to get that, it will have to do.”

Len doesn't understand what _else_ Zoom could possibly want, and he doesn't care. He's rolling Mick onto his back, searching out wounds, and he's stupidly happy when Mick chokes in a breath, indicating that he's still alive. Len realizes that it'd be better if he _wasn't_. Then he wouldn't have to suffer through Zoom _playing_ with them. Dragging them about their city, toying with them, lightning from the speedforce digging into their festering wounds. 

“I'm sorry,” Len whispers down at him. 

“What did I already tell you,” Mick says. He seizes against Len's hands. 

“Not about this. Not about Zoom. I should have done things differently. I should have—”

Lightning leaps into Len's back and he screams. 

“I _know_ you were taught to listen to your superiors,” Zoom drawls, closed in on him, flush to Len's crouched form. He scrapes the tips of his fingers through Len's skin. 

“My father tell you that?” Len cries out. “Because he probably forgot to mention my penchant for defiance!” He grits his teeth, head lolling forward, and swallows down a yell. His body shudders when Zoom releases him and he falls limp over Mick. “You know something,” Len gets out in between his gasps for breath, “I'm surprised it's taken us this long to get here. You, killing me.”

Fists tear into his side and before he knows it, both him and Mick have skidded across the rooftop. He barely gets an arm and leg around Mick to keep him balanced on the building. Shakes. Holds to Mick for dear life, even if a thought blips through his mind, wondering if he should just do the humane thing and _let Mick go_. But he can't. He can't bring himself to do it.

He always knew he was selfish. 

“You were a figurehead,” Zoom explains to him. “You moved your chess pieces, as I moved mine. You played a valiant game. You gave _hope_. Desire.”

Len rolls his head to stare at Zoom's back, sickened. 

“Darkness means nothing without light. It just _is_. But when there is light?”

Len helps pull Mick further to safety. He gets onto his own knees, swaying. There's still a tumble of electricity rippling through him. He looks out at the city, feeling more defeated than he thought he would, as he starts to understand Zoom's words.

“When that light goes out, the darkness is all-encompassing,” Zoom laughs.

“You used me,” Len says. Mick's shaking his head at him, denying it, but Len knows it's the truth. “You used me to break the city, completely.” 

“Yes,” Zoom purrs. “And you've done _exceptional_. Your broken body will be an excellent symbol.”

Ingrained in his psyche, Len flinches when he sees lightning. He expects Zoom to be near him again, but the demon hasn't moved from his spot across the roof. The split-second of discharge spikes again, and Len tries to stifle down his exhaustion to really _look_ at what he's seeing. 

Red, streaking through the streets in a jagged pattern. 

_Red_ , not blue.

“Flash,” Len whispers, awed.

“Flash is dead, Len,” Mick reminds him.

“No, but look.” Len points, his finger tracing over the tell-tale sign of the Flash, red lightning sparking through streets, coming towards them. He looks over his shoulder at Zoom. The red arches up the rooftop and stops between them and Zoom. Len frowns. “Who're you?” Because the red of the suit is the only thing that he recognizes about this Flash.

“ _Flash_ ,” Zoom growls. “You can't be here... You closed the breaches, condemning this world to death.”

“And that was a mistake.” Barry pulls at the pair and flashes them back to the street, more gentle than when Zoom took them up. “Sorry,” he says to them, frowning. “It's complicated, but I'm the Flash. Or, I guess, _a_ Flash. Who...” His frowns deepens in contemplation. “Who are you supposed to be? Do you... work for Zoom? Or... _did_ you...”

“That's insulting,” Mick rumbles. He tries to sit up, but his broken arm makes moving extremely difficult. 

“I'm the mayor,” Len snaps. “And no, Zoom can go fuck himself.”

“Oh. Okay. That's...” Barry starts to smile, big and bright, unable to stop himself. “That's great. I'm here to stop him.”

“You can't take him by yourself.”

“Trust me, I know. I'm not alone. Just get out of here. I don't want any—any innocents,” he chuckles at saying that word, “caught in the crossfire.” 

“ _Flash_ —”

“Len, he's right, let's go,” Mick says. 

“Thanks, Mick,” Barry says, then winces when Mick shoots him a very confused look. “You know... never mind. I did say it was complicated. Just trust me when I say that my friends and I will fix your city.”

They watch him scale the building. Len thinks he should have asked the guy to bring them back to their car. A shock wave bursts across the sky and then the speedsters are gone, miles and miles away. Something in Len eases. He leans his back against Mick's. Still, he thinks he can hear the distant battle, like a thunderstorm idling over the city, though it could very well be Mardon. For a moment, Len wonders if the hope that this Flash brings is the same kind of hope Len brought to Central City, and that it'll be just as agonizing if the Flash and his friends fail.

“I should have asked you to marry me,” Len says, continuing his earlier discussion, before he was electrocuted. He picks at broken pieces of asphalt. 

“We're still alive,” Mick answers. He cradles his broken arm close to him. “Nothing stopping you.”

Len expects something to. “It'd be a shoddy proposal.”

“We could die in the next hour.”

That's more optimistic than Len's thinking. Next five minutes, he would have said. 

“I got mistaken for your husband, once,” Mick says. “It was strange.”

The sky whites out. It leaves spots in Len's eyes. 

He wonders if Mick told the truth to whoever asked him, or if he just went with it. “Mick, would you marry me?” he asks instead. It _is_ a shoddy proposal. No style. He can't even see Mick's face. 

“No force, not even Zoom, could keep me from saying 'yes,'” Mick answers. 

They're in pain, beaten on the street, Zoom and this other Flash still going at it across the city, but Len just closes his eyes, leans his head against Mick's, and smiles.

* * *

Len knows that the Flash went through the ringer ten hundred times more than he did, and yet the speedster already looks like he's doing well. It doesn't seem fair to him.

“You're really the mayor?”

“ _Yes_.”

“There's no like... strings? Attached?”

Len rolls his eyes. “What, like I'm in this position to rob the city blind?” he drawls.

“Yeah. Like that.”

Len grins at Mick, feeling like it's a lovely inside joke. “No, Flash. No strings.”

* * *

A day later, Len's team is waiting for the illusion to break. The deathgrip of Zoom, peeling away, seemed unreal. His metas continued to be an unruly mess, seeing it as an opportunity to take power for themselves. But, thankfully, they weren't strong enough without him. It was only a matter of time before things eased to something... something normal. 

Len doesn't know what normal _is_ for him anymore. They've been under Zoom's shadow for so long. Normal was being a criminal. Normal was casual sex with Mick. Normal was always knowing his father was somewhere near, prowling about. 

Len doesn't _want_ his normals back. 

He never thought he'd be in this point of his life. 

It's invigorating. 

“Lisa, I'm getting married,” he tells her, peering out from his piles of paperwork. He thought the amount of work he had to do to keep the city afloat was bad. The fallout of Zoom? _Atrocious._

“About time, Lenny! Let me guess, it took near-death to make you realize.”

“Of course. Why would it be anything else?” 

She laughs, bounding forward. “ _Please_ let me help with setup?”

“Only if you help me deal with all of _this_.” He gestures at his desktop. 

She wrinkles her nose. “So you're going to stay as mayor.” She thumbs at a pile. “This is awful. This all generated from two days?”

“Ye- _ep_.”

“I don't know if I want to help with your wedding that badly.”

He can't really blame her.

They both look up at a knock and the door opening. Len really needs to make new office policies.

Two people walk in, both familiar. One in a red suit, the other a scientist. Mick follows in behind the pair. 

“Wells?” Len asks, startled.

“Hello, Mr. Snart.”

“We thought you were—”

“Dead, gone, ran away?” Wells asks. “No. I was on another Earth. His Earth.” He points at Barry. “I see you've kept the city spinning.”

“It was a team effort.”

“Yes, I heard you had a... _particular_ group of criminals helping out, playing hero.”

“Oh no,” Barry murmurs, “please don't say Rogues. Or... Or maybe please _do_... I'm not sure.”

“So what if they're Rogues?” Mick asks. 

“Of course they are,” Barry sighs. 

“What do you _mean_ 'another' Earth?” Len interrupts.

Wells grins. “Oh, Mr. Snart, we have much to discuss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: I wrapped this up a bit faster than I wanted, but like my monster prompt, this one will probably also get it's own little series. 
> 
>  
> 
> Note 2: I've really enjoyed this week! I've never participated in something like this and it's been great and quite a surprise, especially because I really didn't think I'd manage to do all seven days, and then I came out of it with the potential of two series. It's also weird for me to be “in” a new fandom—at least one that I'm writing fic for. I still remembering getting to the end of the second LoT episode and then ending up 100% into this ship so... it's been very odd! I love it. I hope to hang around for awhile.


End file.
